


Porn Star Dancing

by BackwardBlossom



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Murder, Prostitution, Shameless Smut, Stripping, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackwardBlossom/pseuds/BackwardBlossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire is working as a stripper to get the attention of a certain someone from her past, and Sylar is back for more. Can their love save or destroy them? Co-written with TayLynn (http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3206002/TayLynn)<br/>Link for fic trailer : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI7e6nDLp34 (made by xLotsFanx)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Set the Stage

She can't help congratulating herself on her choice in lipstick that evening, its bright red shade contrasting nicely with her short black hair. She applied another coat just to make sure, smacking her lips as she appraised her appearance in the mirror one last time. Stepping back for a better angle to see the rest of the outfit, she did a slight twirl to see her back side. "Yes," she thought. "This will do nicely." One fleeting glance at the mirror and Claire was out the door.

It was strange, her growing, irrational anxiety. She had walked the length of this hallway many times over. And many other hallways, eerily similar, both in its somewhat musty smell and dim illumination. There was always one light fixture that needed changing, it's dying beams flickering in its vain struggle to regain life. It was damn depressing is what it was. How many girls before her had walked this path, looked up at that light and also wondered "when the hell are they going to change that fucking bulb?" Of course it was only distracting them from what lied ahead, because what sane, self-respecting person would put themselves through such a thing There was of course the exceptions. The desperate single mothers only trying to feed their families; that she could understand. It was imperative to their survival. Although, that left Claire with a very troubling question, why was she doing it? There was not much that threatened her survival, going hungry for a few weeks wasn't exactly going to kill her. She didn't need the extra money, years, count that years, of savings insured her financial security. So, when it came down to it, why was she putting herself through this?

Claire didn't have to think very hard for an answer to that one. She knew from the moment she started on this path why exactly she chose this, why she continued on, year after fucking year, skipping on to the next shitty establishment. It was all for him. Her desperate struggle for his attention. How had she let herself fall so far, for him? Where was that headstrong, stubborn cheerleader so sure of her convictions? Had time been so cruel as to erase her so irrevocably? Did it really matter now? Everyone she once knew was long since dead. No more than bones and faded memories. The only one left to judge her was herself, and Claire had already forgotten how to hate him. The very masculine cheering was quite audible at that point, drunken exclamations of pleasure. All of us girls were on display, an untouchable fantasy that men could reenact in their minds. A private screening to be replayed later with a bottle of lube and a firm hand. We were merchandise, a product to be sold, instant gratification for all those with cash to burn. She would endure it for as long as it took because how could Sylar stand for other men coveting what was his?

"Next up gentlemen, the ever incomparable Clarissa!"

That was her cue. She peeked out and scanned the room. The house was packed tonight, but when was it not if she was performing? She brought her hands to her face, physically forcing her lips into a believable smile. Relax, deep breath, in and out, shoulders straight, chin up, smile still on. And then Claire took that step into the spotlight, a kind mercy to blind her from the animals below. She clutched her robe closer, massaging the fur lined collar and waited for the music to begin. Claire could barely hear her labored breath over the heavy bass, ten steps later she was at the edge of the cat walk. Flinging her robe open, she dropped it carelessly to the ground, it had outlived its purpose. The men were here to see everything, to covet and lust. It was a strange sort of power. She let the adrenaline take over, moving her body in all the ways she knew would get them hard. She allowed herself a quick scan of the faces below. There were a handful of attractive men to be found, in the sea of uptight, middle aged business men, and old drunk fools. The years passed, the world changed, but the people didn't. They all blurred together after the centuries. Claire allowed herself to fantasize about plucking one of the ripe youths from the front row, taking him back to her dressing room, and fucking them hard on top of her borrowed vanity table. Loneliness had allowed her this thought. She let the daydream play out in her mind, beginning to end, sparing no detail in between. She even gave the boy a promising smile. A crooked grin she learned from her favorite uncle so many years ago. His memory hazed and his features were beginning to fade. He was only a smile now, a crooked grin she wore in his honor.

She turned away from him. She would not be bringing him backstage with her. He was pretty, but he was not worthy. He was not Sylar. Fucking hell, he really knew how to ruin her eternity, even if he was aware of it or not.

The song was almost at a close, the crowd roared for an encore. Should she oblige them? Claire pondered this as the melody gradually began to fade. What the hell? She had nothing exciting planned for tonight.

The sight of a man…. Tall, dark, and handsome caught her eye from within the crowd. Dark brown eyes met green and as the music ended, with the faint sound of boos from her disappointing ending, Sylar's face was the last thing she saw before the curtain closed.

Claire stood there, completely frozen in shock. Sylar had showed. The bastard did care. A small smile appeared, instantly being replaced by a surprising jolt from her arm.

Max, her boss, stood in front of her looking pissed.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, voice menacing but low at the same time as he started to drag her backstage.

She jerked her arm from his grasp, stopping him. "I saw someone from my past."

"Who?"

"My boyfriend." She hadn't said those words in such a long time that it felt strange to say them now, to Max of all people.

"You have a boyfriend?" Shock and rage seeping in all at once.

"I think it's safe to say we're broken up now." Years of not seeing each other would do that, right?

"Bad breakup?"

Claire smirked, remembering the last time she saw him before shuddering. "You have no idea."

She quickly dismissed herself from Max's present. He may be her boss, but the guy really did give her the creeps and the wig on her head was starting to itch. Heading down the back hall to her dressing room, she was relieved to get the flimsy clothes off, the cheap makeup, and head home. She wouldn't be satisfying anyone tonight.

Claire sat down in front of her vanity, looking in the mirror. The girl staring back was exactly that… a girl. She would never age past seventeen. The dark short hair brought out the contrast of her eyes more, the sparkling show clothes making her older by a year, and…

"Dark hair never suited you."

She whirled, eyes wide to see Sylar standing in the doorway. He casually leaned back against the door frame, eyes scanning her up and down before stopping at her face. The look on her face was one he wishes he could take a picture of and savor it.

"Quite the bad girl you've been." His voice sent shivers down her spine. "I think we need to have a talk."

Claire broke eye contact, fidgeting in her seat as the door slammed closed.


	2. Reunion

His eyes were hauntingly dark, narrowed into slits like they were when he was mad. Claire noticed his stiff posture and his clenched fists, electrical currents radiating off of them. Her mind was racing, fear causing her throat to go dry with words she wished she could say. She was sure he noticed her squirming under his intense gaze.

“Do you remember the last time I saw you?” He asked breaking the eerie silence. 

“Twenty-five years.” She muttered back, avoiding his judging eyes.

“Twenty-five years, five months, two weeks, eight hours, and seventeen seconds, but who’s counting?” He smirked but she couldn't see it because her eyes were glued to the pink carpeted floor. 

Claire sat there, quiet as can be while her mind was on overdrive. Isn't this what she wanted? Sylar back? For him to come back to her? Wasn’t this all for attention anyways? She loved him; it only took sixty-eight years, much less for her to crawl into his bed for the first time. He made her feel, both in good and bad ways. There was not one of her sexual partners who could compare to Sylar, and the lousy fucks for twenty-five years were enough to drive anyone insane especially her. 

She wanted to cry, to rejoice in the fact that her Sylar was here right in front of her, that he came back to her, but the past wasn’t something she could so easily overlook. The last time she saw him was when she was slamming the door on her way out, luggage in tow. Her high heels still slick with the blood he spilled on the kitchen floor as he brought his current victim home to dissect. She was in love with a man who killed people for a living and who wouldn't stop, even if it meant losing her.

Claire hadn’t realized she was crying until that soft familiar touch was present on her cheek. She looked into his eyes and his face was full of remorse.  
“Claire.” Her name brought a sob that had escaped free and she clutched her chest as another sob overtook her.

He bent down, eye level to her now before pulling her into him. She buried her face into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling that ever so welcoming scent of him. She could have stayed there forever, sobbing openly to him. He pulled back slightly only to bring her face into contact with his. His hands gripped her face as he kissed her open mouth, quieting an escaping sob. Claire did not respond, shock setting in that he was kissing her and in her dressing room of a damn strip club. This wasn’t right, he couldn’t just come back like nothing had happened…. As if she was still his. But his hands, traveling down her body only to grasp her waist and pull her flush against him, hardening member and all, made her lose sight of that wayward thought. She responded, mouth opening as their tongues collided, her small hands gripping onto his forearms and squeezing as he sucked on her bottom lip. She leaned back against her vanity set taking Sylar with her. He grasped her thighs, lifting her up and setting her on top of the counter. One hand had a fist full of blonde hair while the other shoved everything off the counter to lay her down on. His mouth reconnected with hers, moving down her neck and to the top of her chest, stopping as his hands glided up the fabric covering a small amount of her. Claire felt him stop as he held onto the fabric too long, absorbing its history. Her breath coming in short and even breaths, her hormones going haywire, she saw his lust filled eyes turn into something darker than even she could pinpoint. Images of Claire, with multiple guys swam into his head like a flood. He shut his eyes, willing it away, but they remained as if teasing him of all he’s missed.

An array emotions washed over Sylar, the most dominate being jealousy. Sure he knew about Claire’s exploits, but knowing and seeing, were two very different things. He could no longer push it all away; it was playing over and over in his head like some sick montage. Perhaps he deserved this. It was his selfish actions that drove her away in the first place, his hunger that he had so desperately tried to ignore for years only to relapse. He wanted so desperately to believe that purely love could save him. However much he wanted it to be so, Claire was never enough, and she knew it. It was not only his return to murder that sent the cheerleader running, it was her knowledge that she was not important enough for him to stay clean, that there was something that Sylar loved more than her and it was blood and power. The realization hadn’t lessened the agony, nor had time. Claire had rooted herself into his very soul, another hunger in herself. He craved her as much as abilities, unable to quit either, never having learned to live without. 

Sylar had maintained his distance, as she had requested (but never truly believing he would). He let the years slip by, observed from afar, and watched as she moved on with her own hellish eternity. When Claire took up dancing, he knew immediately it was for him, only for him. She couldn’t care less for her adoring fans. He didn’t give in right away, he waited, assessing her resolve. How much did his sweet Claire want his attention? How long would she continue on with this farce? It took decades before he gave in. In the end, he was the weaker of the two. And that was how he found himself in her dressing room, gripping her thighs, their chests pressed firmly together. 

He wanted to run, he wanted to stay, he wanted to savagely fuck her until the thought of leaving would never cross her mind again. “Claire–” he didn’t know how to continue. There was so much he wanted to say, but try as he might, he couldn't form the words. 

“I know,” was her reply. 

“That’s not enough. I need to say this.” She nodded ever so slightly, pulling away a fraction to better analyze his face. She gave a small smile, her signal for him to begin. “Firstly, I want to apologize. I want to apologize for ever making you believe that you were not enough. I love you so fucking much and god I wish that were enough, but I’ll try Claire. I want to try again, for you.” 

“And? You said firstly; I’m assuming there is more.” 

“Then stop interrupting me woman and let me finish.” He raised an eyebrow in her direction, challenging her in to silence. She shrugged and motioned for him to continue. “And secondly, I’m so fucking sorry that I waited this long to come and find you.” 

Claire’s immediate response was to grab his shirt and slam his lips down to hers, her questing tongue snaking its way into his mouth. They both groaned in approval and she wrapped her legs around his waist, dragging him closer. She tried to shut out the rational part of her mind that was screaming at her to stop, that she shouldn’t rush into this. She had left him for a reason, a very sound reason. She had managed to set aside that emotional part of herself that demanded she ignore his many faults, particularly his murderous traits, but the need inside her for him to consume her in every way possible was driving her to grind her hips against his own and would not cease. This had been what she wanted? Right? For him to come and seduce her away from the life she had created for herself; for him to apologize profusely and swear to commit to her and only her. There was also the need to feel him slamming himself inside her. To feel the heat of his breath against her neck as he whispered her name over and over. 

Claire let out an exaggerated sigh, pushing at his chest. “Wait, stop.”

“Why? I know you want me,” to prove his point he slid his hand into her panties, rubbing his index finger against her sex. She was unmistakably wet with want. “Your body does not lie Claire. Why fight it, or was the purpose of this game you've been playing with me all these year to tease me with something I would never have again? 

She had no answer for him. Claire knew that when she left him that she had done it for all the right reasons. She could not condone the slaughter of innocent people. She had learned to forgive  
him, but her mercy could not extend any further. She fell in love with him despite herself, and he had tried to become a better man, but killing was so deeply rooted within him, that no time spent within a mental prison could ever truly erase the hunger and make Sylar the hero. In order to save herself from the heartache, she had left. She had tried to return to that bubbly cheerleader, the Claire Bennet that she thought she would have been if she never had discovered her ability and grew up to live a normal life. She quickly discovered however, that was not possible. She was forever changed by her experiences. Her past defined her into the woman she was toady and no vain attempts at normalcy could changer that. It might have been possible if she had someone to remind her of who she was, but everyone was long since dead and she was trapped in her forced solitude. She had taken up stripping out of boredom. Something to pass the endless monotony of her days. Although, she quickly discovered that it was all for him. That she wanted him to see her, to know what he had lost and try to reclaim it. She was torn between trying to maintain the distance she had created but also wanting to close the gap.She wanted him close, but she wanted him to stay away. She wished that their lives could be simple. That they could love one another and that could be enough, but it was never that simple, especially with them.

She left her hand on his chest, her fingers curling slightly into the material of his shirt. She didn't want to surrender their closeness just yet. “You don’t realize how much I wish that everything could just go back to the way it was. That we could be together.”

“Why can’t it?” 

“You know why.” 

“Do I?”

“Don’t play the fool Sylar. It doesn't suit you.” She leaned into his touch as he brought his hand to back up to her face. She was vaguely aware of her surroundings. She knew that at some point they would me interrupted by one or more of her fellow dancers. She was both hoping and dreading their appearance. 

“What will it take Claire, for you to forgive me? I know that you are capable of it; you have done it before after all.” 

“And you betrayed my trust. I forgave you after everything that you had done to me and pretty much the entire fucking world. It wasn't exactly easy for me to do it the first time.” 

“But I want it more this time. I’ll try harder.”

“That doesn't mean shit to me. Prove it. Show me that you can truly change for me; that you are going to attempt to be a decent person. Then I might consider taking you back.” He frowned at her ultimatum. Clearly the night had not turned out precisely as he had intended. 

“And how to I do that exactly?” 

“You can start by not killing people to begin with.”


	3. Mistakes and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Taylor. I believe she was tired of waiting around for me to write something.

Sylar was at a loss for words. Killing was as much of apart of him as was his thick eyebrows. She was asking too much, taking too much. But looking into her green eyes that were begging for him to choose her broke any logic that had entered his head.  
He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her tight. She had begun crying into his chest, clutching his shirt in the process as if it was her lifeline. In many ways, he was.

“Don’t hurt me again,” he barely made out her muffled sobs. “Just love me. Never stop loving me.” His hands were making soothing circles up and down her back. 

“As if I ever could stop loving you,” she quietly replied. 

Her sobs grew more frantic, she was crawling into a hole of emotions that Sylar was too frightened to even approach. All he could do was hold her as the tears she kept hidden and bottled up for so long, refused to cease. Sylar gently scooped her up in his arms and Claire didn’t bother to protest. She was so tired of fighting and she was finally letting go into the world of unconsciousness, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

 

Claire awoke to a car alarm going off in the distance. She came to in a barren room with light streaming in through the broken shutters. Alarm settled in at her unfamiliar surroundings, the only thing reducing her panic was Sylar watching her from the doorway. There was an easiness his presence evoked in her that once used to harbor terror.“You slept for fifteen hours.” He breaks the silence, his gaze never straying from her face.

Claire had never been to Sylar’s apartment, the old one they shared being quickly sold as it was a haunting reminder of the lack of each other’s presence . She looked around, noticing the simplicity of it all. Simple was Sylar’s style. He could care less about home design. His bed sat in the middle of the room, three feet off the ground with a basic wooden frame. He had nothing else in the room besides a small night stand that did not match the bedframe. A bulb hung from the ceiling with a string attached to it. She could only imagine what the rest of his apartment looked like. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

He continued to stare, the white sheets catching the curves of her petite frame. “Because I want you here.”

“I shouldn’t be here.” She sits up, about to throw the sheet off of her when Sylar moves forward. He cautiously sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes as dark as the night.

“I want you here.” His hand reaches for hers. “I want you.”

Claire can only stare, a little dumbfounded by his blunt honesty. She feels him squeeze their joined hands. His other hand moves to stroke her cheek and her eyes close. “Sylar, stop…”

Her protest is lost when he pushes her back on the bed, hovering over her. His eyes devour her with one single gaze. She can feel a tingling sensation start in her lower abdomen.  
His hands travel up her thighs slowly, teasingly. “Tell me you don’t want this.” Her thighs are spread open and he grinds up against her menacingly. “Try to lie to me, I dare you.”  
Claire couldn’t focus on his taunting words when she could feel the length of him against her side. She wanted him… bad. She had always wanted him. He should know the effect he has on her as much as she has on him.

She arched her back off the bed dissipating any space between them. He gripped the sheets at the sensation she was giving him and they hadn’t even begun taking off their clothes.  
Her hands grip his shaft through his jeans and pulls lightly. “I’m yours Sylar”

His lips devour hers, proving the dominance in this scenario. His hands glide beneath her shirt sending chills in its wake. He’s teasing her and she knows it, moaning in protest. He smirks as his hands pull the fabric of her shirt up over her head. Claire’s panting now, looking up at him with so much compassion it seemed to blind him. Her lacy bra was revealed to him, and he reveled in the sight of it. Too many years have gone by since he last touched her, let alone been able to ravish her beauty. 

He’s impatient though, the thought of having her again too much for him to bear. He disposes of her bra and drinks in the sight of her breasts. He wonders how many other men have seen them, and cringes at the thought. Claire always hates being the one so openly exposed, even if her job revolves around that factor and reaches for his shirt. He lets her take it off, working her way to the next item of clothing… his pants. Her tiny hands lightly brush against his straining erection as she unfastens his belt in haste. She wants him as bad as he wants her and it’s evident when she claws away his jeans, Sylar kicked them to the floor in one swift motion. He’s fully revealed in front of her, the sight of him almost making her come right then and there. Sylar slowly, teasingly, slides down her underwear before dropping them beside his discarded pants. 

Claire’s eyes never stray from Sylar’s as he presses himself down on top of her before positioning himself at her entrance. He can almost see her past lovers encounters flash before his very eyes. The jealousy and rage that consumes him causes him to thrust into her roughly. She’s puzzled for a second at his lack of grace before being thrust into again, only rougher. Claire quickly realizes this is sex, not making love. Sylar’s own blinded rage causes him to only see red, to only see vivid memories of the guys who have taken his place. He’s consumed by hatred; towards himself, towards Claire, and especially towards her men. Sylar grips the head board for support, causing him to sink even deeper into her wet core. Claire’s panting, focusing on Sylar who refuses to look at her. She’s hurt, not only by the fact no guy has ever kept their eyes off of her, but by being withdrawn from her yet again. He quickens his pace as he feels himself reach his peak. Only Claire could handle this, his indestructible girl. If only her feelings were just as indestructible. 

With one powerful thrust, he comes inside of her moaning her name. It was the only recognition he’s given her, the only recognition he felt she deserved. He loved her, and that was why it hurt him deeper than any wound ever could at her betrayal to replace him in bed.  
Sweat beads his forehead, dripping down on Claire’s bare chest. He’s trying to catch his breath as he rolls off of her. Claire is left naked and exposed, the lack of body heat causing her to shiver. She quickly gets up scrambling for her clothes.

“Leaving so soon?” Sylar props up on one elbow, watching her put back on her clothes.

“This was a mistake.” She doesn’t look at him as her eyes brim with tears. Her hands are shaky as she fumbles with the button of her jeans.

“It’s never a mistake when it’s between us.” 

She turns her back to him as she puts on her bra. “It was a meaningless fuck…”

“Better than what you’re used to screwing.” He bites back.

“At least they can get me off…”

Sylar snaps and in a fit of rage he’s lunging at her, his hands reaching straight for her throat. He throws her against the wall, pinning her up off the floor with one hand strangling her throat.

“Don’t you dare!” He roars, his hands blazing in a fit of rage. “I've known you for decades, I've fucked you for years. I know you better than any of those horny bastards.”

Claire can’t speak even if she wanted to, Sylar was blocking off her airways.He continues, glad she can’t cut him with her words any further than she already has. “I loved you and I still do. Even though you’re a cheap flimsy whore who seems to make it her mission to hurt me! I've protected you, I've kept you safe. I would do anything for you but that isn't enough, is it?”  
He loosens his hold and lets her drop to the floor. Claire glares at him as she rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to talk, and he better listen.

“You’re uncontrollable, your love comes with violence and heartbreak. I can’t be around you for a day before you’re already back to hurting me.” She’s seething, her own fury consuming her. 

“All I’ve done is ask you for one thing and you can’t even do that. Because you’re selfish and you’d rather lose me than stop killing.”Claire didn't know she was crying until the tears ran down her face. Sylar reaches out for her, but she recoils.“Stay away from me Sylar, if you love me you’ll let me go.” She turns her back on him, the door already shut behind her before he manages to speak in his empty apartment.

“It’s because I love you that I can’t let you go.”


	4. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile...oops. Writing doesn't come as naturally to me anymore and it is more of a chore these days. It probably doesn't help that I'm constantly writing eassys for my 20th Century Humanities class, yuck. However, Sylaire will always own a piece of my heart and I had a portion of this written already so I wanted to continue with this story :)

She wasn’t sure she’d label it as a breakup or not, considering they never were an exclusive thing to begin with and hadn’t been one in a couple of decades. Ever since parting ways with Sylar, she was back to the club, back to distracting herself from the one person her mind seemed to always wander to.

Claire was back to numbing the pain in the only way she knew best…boys. They couldn’t be called men, even if they were older than her un-aging form. Their minds and pitiful ways were that of boys and not men. The one in her dressing room now wasn’t any different. He was unshaven, his stubble brushing roughly against her inner thigh. His dark eyes were not dark like Sylar’s, but they would do. He seemed to look up at her more often than she’d like as well. They weren’t the same, and his sloppy movements proved that as well. 

Her hands grasped his face tilting it upwards, pulling his head towards her mouth. He kissed her sloppily in his drunken haze, hands on her waist as he grinds against her. She can’t feel anything, there is no tingling fire from him like there is with Sylar. 

Sylar. That is who it always came back to. That fucking bastard.

Claire kissed him back, wanting to rid herself of any thoughts of Sylar and what he makes her feel. Her hands grasped his dark brown hair and she pulls softly. His fingers fumble with the end of her sparkly top, slowly easing it up. He lowers his mouth to her neck, trying to leave some sort of mark on her but her skin remained unblemished. 

She raked her hands up and down his back causing a hiss from him. In reaction he carelessly bite down on her shoulder (she has forgotten to care that it should have hurt). He’s panting against her skin, the noise drowning out anything, especially the creak of the door opening. Her eyes peal open, staring through his mop of dark brown hair hanging to his forehead from the sweat, when she notices a shadow visible behind him.

She tries desperately to warn him some how, to stop his rhythmic thrusting, when cold air hits her from the lack of his warmth that had once enveloped her so sweetly. He is gone. Claire sat up, startled, and saw the boy hanging from the wall, his head sliced to ribbons and the blood sprayed across her half naked body. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the screams. Although, there is nothing she can do as a panicked sob escaped her throat. She curses herself for showing him any sign of weakness, but she was human after all. 

Sylar dropped the body to the ground, blood splattered against the walls like some Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie. His hands lay at his sides, tinted crimson. He turned and smiled. She made a few attempts to form any words, but they would not arrange themselves into proper sentences in her mind. They only thing that slipped out was her heavy breathing. Claire could not recognize the man before her. His expression was pure insanity and rage. His whole aura reeked of death and it frighten her. When she’d left him she had assumed that everything would return to how it had been, both secluding themselves into their own private worlds, that unspoken boundaries would once again be resurrected, and they would bear the weight of eternity apart. It had taken a lifetime for him to confront her again after she had abandoned him the first time. However, now he could hardly wait a week. 

Sylar’s smile remained unchanging as he stalked towards her. She was frozen, not even summing the will to cover herself. What did it matter really in the scheme of things. Claire counted every step he took, his approach sedate, nearly gliding off the floor like some cartoon villain. The silence was broken by his soft chuckle. Why was he laughing? 

“Oh Claire, my dear Claire,” he was looming over her. He tilted his head to side, his penetrating glare examining every inch of her. His off putting smile still painted firmly on. “I didn’t like how we ended things,” he continued. “I came her to explain myself. To make amends as it so happens.” His smile faltered as a frown began to crease his forehead. 

“Sylar I–” 

“No!” He silenced her with a slight move of his hand. “I’m no where in the mood for your excuses. I realize I was callous and inconsiderate in the way I was with you, but it hasn’t even been a week Claire and your already fucking some asshole like the two cent whore you are.” He lent down a roughly wiped the tears from her cheek. “Oh baby don’t cry.” His words were not meant to soothe, but to taunt her. It only made her cry harder. 

He made to sit down on the tiny couch Claire currently occupied. He lifted her legs into his lap, and rubbed slow circles into her soft skin. “What, don’t like what I have to say? You know I’m telling you the truth Claire.” She made to get up, but he pushed her back down. She tried to sink into the cushions praying that the furniture would eat her up, hoping that she could disappear completely, but to no avail. She had no choice, but to remain there with him. 

“I’m not a whore,” she protested, finally finding the ability to speak. 

“Oh, slut, forgive me,” He laughed like he didn’t truly believe what he was saying.

Claire couldn’t understand why he was making her out to be the guilty party in this situation. After all, he was the one who had just murdered someone. Not to mention that he couldn’t even use the excuse that “what’s his name” had something to offer him abilities wise. No, Sylar murdered the boy just for the simple fact that he had been fucking her. He just couldn’t stand someone else having her but him. What the hell was his problem? She had made it clear to him that they were over, again and again. How many times could she deliver the same tired argument? This was exactly why they were toxic and she should let him go. Maybe if she hadn’t taken up dancing he would have remained far away. That he wouldn’t be drawn to her like some insect enthralled with an open flame, the promise of light so tempting, only to get burned in the end. No she had to stop this once and for all, but how?

“You need to leave Sylar,” she applauded herself with the firmness of her voice. 

“Hmm, I don’t think that will work for me love.” His hand began to inch up her leg, so gently that she could barely feel the warmth of his fingertips. “You see Claire, I’m not satisfied with our current relationship or lack thereof.” She could feel his hand glide over her inner thigh. She drew in a sharp breath. Her movements were being smothered by Sylar’s telekinesis, and she was helpless to her current fate. 

He continued his speech, “Waiting for you to forgive me has grown tedious. I tried to change for you, to become a better person, a hero,” he said the last word with such disdain that it must have left a rancid taste on his tongue. “I’ve done all that I can to please you, yet it never has been enough. I thought that you wanted this Claire, that you were finally ready to forget the past and start again. My point Claire, is that clearly you will always personify me as the eternal ‘bad guy’ and I think I should start living up to that expectation.” 

He carefully extracted himself from under her legs, only to position himself above her. He let his weight gradually ease on top of her. Claire swore he could feel the frantic beating of her heart. The heat of his body seeping through her spread thighs, her legs framing his body perfectly. Despite her most valiant effort, she couldn’t help the slight throbbing that began to ache in her core. Her body was a traitor and it yearned to have him inside her. It wasn’t prejudice, it simply wanted the orgasm it was denied so rudely moments before. Although, how could she allow herself this? Surely summiting to her base desire for him would further complicate her life. Allowing herself even this, would make refusing him in the future drastically more difficult. 

She let out a sudden gasp as he increased the pressure of his hips upon hers. The rough fabric of his dark washed jeans rubbing her in the most delicious way. With each slow thrust of his groin against hers, her pleasure hazed mind could recall less and less her reasons for refusing him in the first place. 

"Let me have you Claire," he whispered against the hollow of her throat. He licked up her pulse point and traced the shell of her ear. His hand that wasn't tangled in her golden hair glided along the soft folds between her thighs. Claire's orgasm was rapidly building. She could barely breathe let alone form any response. She wanted to tell him to go back to hell, to shove his request right up his ass, but with every wet stroke of his digits against her, Claire couldn't fight it anymore. She did want him, all of him, inside her, hot and enveloping, possessing her. Claire pulled his face down to hers, crashing her lips against his with bruising force. Fuck it she thought to herself. She could feel his cocky grin pressed against her mouth. 

"Oh shut up!" Claire pulled away long enough to scold him. She returned to their almost violent kissing. She bite his lip, drawing blood and licked it away before it healed over. 

Claire couldn't take the teasing any longer. She reached down and quickly released him from the confines of his pants. They both worked them down his hips along with his briefs, letting them come to rest halfway down his thighs. Claire wasted no time, after a few thrusts of her hand along his cock, she aligned him at her entrance. She shifted her lips, angling them to convey her consent and he pushed his way roughly inside her. 

"No matter how many times you try to deny me Claire, we always end up right back her." Claire remained silent, her panting the only response. "You are mine, as I am yours. We belong side by side and everyone else beneath us. We are gods Claire and the world is ours…"


End file.
